See You on the Dance Floor
by MunchkinLovesYou
Summary: Rusty makes a discovery leading to Sharon explaining some things from her past. (Other ideas still go into this, but that is the main topic.) Prompt from two of my friends. Andy/Sharon/Rusty


**A/N: This story was written based on two prompts from two of my very best friends (No, not you, D and J; Two other very special friends). I will call them A, and L.  
A asked for a fanfiction where Sharon's past is explained/part of it being ballet.  
L requested a fic where Sharon gets sick and Rusty takes care of her.**

Where these two get their ideas, I have no idea. But since I didn't want to write two separate fics, and I promised them each I would write it, I just decided to mix them. I think it turned out okay…

Enjoy?

* * *

It had been exactly thirty-seven days since Rusty requested to try going to a ballet. It had been forty-eight days since she last admitted to herself that she had been sick. Why these two days had fallen again on the same day, she didn't know. All she knew was that she was not missing an opportunity to take Rusty to his first Grande performance, even if she felt like crap.

The feeling had started on Thursday morning. She had woken to realize that her alarm had gone off four times and she hadn't gotten up. Rusty had already started breakfast, and she had to drop him off at school in yoga pants and an old L.A.P.D. FID department t-shirt. Spending the entire day on the couch had helped a bit, but the fact that she wasn't in the office meant that the Major Crimes team was essentially on their owns. She had called in sick, yes, but that didn't change much. At least she had been there this morning when they wrapped up the case. The point was, she still didn't feel very well.

Just as she finished putting on her fitted white dress, there was a knock on her bedroom door. After shooting her damp hair a make-up free face a disapproving glance in the mirror, she allowed them to enter.

Rusty poked his head in shyly, a little put-off about being in her bedroom; he rarely if ever went in. "Hey. You said to remind you that we need to leave in ten minutes."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Thanks, Rusty." Rubbing a hand over her eyes, she placed the other on her hip and tried to figure out how to get ready that fast. She had done it before when officers had decided to go trigger-happy, but tonight she just couldn't muster the strength it took to do it.

Rusty stepped more fully into the room. He was wearing his black pants and nice shoes, and a dark red dress shirt that Sharon had bought for him. He put his hands in his pockets. "You're not still sick, are you?" He asked, worried.

Sharon's head shot up. "I was never sick, just tired." She snapped. "I'm fine." She added, a little softer.

He shifted from foot to foot. "Do you need anything? Like, a cup of tea or something before we leave?" He had grown to know her habits.

She smiled. "No, thank you. I'll be out in eight minutes."

"Okay." And he shut the door softly on his way out.

Nine minutes later, Sharon emerged to a waiting Rusty. He immediately grabbed her purse from the table and offered to carry it, to which she declined. Stopping at the sink, she swallowed an Advil, unaware of Rusty's worried glance. She rarely took medication, but she was worried about getting a headache with the dim lights. Dropping the pill bottle in her purse, she grabbed her keys and they headed to the car.

* * *

As soon as they parked, they walked the two blocks to the theatre, Rusty stealing glances at Sharon the entire way. She really didn't look good, he realized, and started to feel a bit guilty for being the reason she had to do this.

"I'm fine." She muttered, as if reading his mind.

He resigned himself to the fact that she wasn't going to admit she was sick, and quickened his pace to keep up with her. The minute they hit the street with the theatre, Rusty knew it. There were so many people that most were out on the sidewalk still waiting to get in the doors to the lobby. Most of the men, even some teenagers, were wearing tuxedos or a suit jacket. Rusty tugged at the collar of his dress shirt as Sharon grabbed his hand, dragging him straight inside through all the people.

It took ten minutes to confirm their tickets, then to get through all the people to a back entrance that would lead them to their shared box. Once they reached the top of a staircase, Sharon opened a door with a key card and led Rusty into a medium sized room with drinks and snacks on the tables, and some comfy chairs. Looking around, he saw that other people were also in the room.

"Sharon?" He tapped her.

"Yes?" She paused in the middle of filling a cup of tea.

"Why are there other people in your box?"

She set the mug down after filling it. "This isn't just my box, it's my family's box, and we share it with another family; the Sarrero family."

"Oh." Rusty said as he was led to another door at the far end of the room. Sharon opened that door and Rusty's mouth dropped open looking in. They were in the 'box'. It was really just a balcony with drapes hung over the top and the sides, with big plush theatre chairs. Sharon moved quickly to the side marked 'Welles'. Once they sat down, Rusty looked to the other side and noticed someone on their phone sitting in the corner of the side marked 'Sarrero'.

"Who's that?" He pointed to the man.

Sharon didn't look up, but sipped her tea and watched the curtain on the stage. "Probably someone from the Sarrero family. They're here a lot."

"He looks familiar, though."

She squinted at the man. Her eyes widened, and she cleared her throat, taking another sip of tea. "It's Lieutenant Flynn." She said quietly.

Rusty smiled really big, but catching the look in Sharon's eyes, he stopped. "What's wrong?"

She sunk further into her seat. "This is just what I need." She mumbled, mostly to herself.

"Can we go say hi?"

"I'd appreciate if you-"

"ANDY!" He called over to him, above the clatter in the room and voices below.

Andy picked his head up at the sound of his name. Looking across to the 'Welles' side. He waved when he saw Rusty and chuckled when he saw Sharon's horrified look. Putting his phone in his pocket, he got up and walked over to them. "Hey Rusty" He nodded. "Captain."

"Hey, Flynn." Rusty replied gleefully. Sharon nodded to him then coughed.

After conversing for a while, Rusty offered to move one seat down so Andy could sit between Sharon and him. Sharon chose to ignore Andy's concerned look when he sat down and looked at her. She must have looked worse than she felt; if that was possible. Soon the lights were going down and the talking hushed.

The beginning of the performance was perfect, in Sharon's view. Having been a ballerina herself for most of her life, she was able to pick out places that needed work. This one had obviously involved a lot of practicing, and she looked occasionally to Rusty, who looked both amused and astonished with it. Halfway through the first act, Sharon began to feel dizzy. Though she was sitting down, she figured it to be from the combination of the dark box and the lights on the stage, not to mention the slight headache she already had. She leaned her head back on the chair, thankful that no one else was in her section aside from Flynn and Rusty.

By intermission the dizziness was thankfully gone, but the headache had gotten worse. The lights came up, and she noticeably winced at the brightness. Her eyes were still closed, but she was all too aware of Flynn and Rusty's furtive glances. She opened her eyes and put a hand up as though that could block the light. Choosing to ignore everyone else, she leaned down and picked up her tea mug. She pushed herself off of her seat and made her way to the back room to put it in the dish rack. She had almost made it back to her seat unnoticed when an older woman stopped her in her tracks. Sharon nearly fell on the woman from having to stop so fast.

"You are new here" She said cheekily, extending a hand.

Sharon reluctantly took it. "Sharon Raydor."

The woman shook it vehemently. "Maria DeLuca." She smiled. "Do you know Andrew?"

Sharon almost blinked at the woman's accented way of saying Andy's name. She was clearly related. And Italian. "Yes, yes I do."

"Oh, wonderful. He really needs-"

"Aunt Maria!" Andy was suddenly behind Sharon. "Are you bothering my friend Sharon?"

While the two conversed the way that only an aunt and a nephew could, Sharon tried to ignore the way her heart picked up pace when Andy had called her his friend. And that his hand was still on the small of her back as he talked. She was lightheaded, and for once she couldn't blame it on her almost-sickness. When they were done, Andy removed his hand from her back to kiss his Aunt on the cheek, and Sharon almost tripped backwards, realizing that she had been leaning into it. Andy then took her by the arm and walked her back to their seats. They had only made it halfway when Sharon had another dizzy spell. This time, she tripped going down a step and would have fallen and hurt herself if Andy hadn't been there. He quickly guided her to a seat, about four rows back from Rusty.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "You don't look too good."

She nodded, closing her eyes briefly at the headache it caused. "I'm fine."

He instinctively felt her forehead, even though she tried to turn away. "You have a fever." He said, as if it wasn't obvious. Standing up, he jogged back to the other side of the box and stopped by his Aunt. Sharon inwardly groaned as the woman approached her again.

She looked over Sharon then jabbed Andy in the ribs. That was as high as she could reach. "You need to take this woman home. Come on, offer to. She's clearly sick."

Andy sighed and then grabbed Sharon's hand, helping her up. They were both aware of Maria's watch of them, and Andy made quick work of gathering both Sharon's things and Rusty, who seemed happy that he wasn't the one who had to tell Sharon to go home. The lights went down for the second act as soon as they hit the door of the box. Sharon took one last fleeting look at the stage before reluctantly following Andy, Rusty walking beside her.

The walked down the stairs, Sharon using the handrail, Rusty watching her step for her. Andy opened the door for her, and the wind that blew in from the Los Angeles night hit her like a brick. She audibly gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. Both Andy and Rusty were at her side in a split second. Andy, knowing what was wrong, took off his suit jacket and helped her put it on. Rusty took her by the elbow as Andy guided her to her car. As soon as they were there, Rusty rummaged in Sharon's purse, and then found her keys, tossing them to Andy before getting into the back seat. He watched from inside the car as Andy opened the car door for Sharon, who got in. She offered for him to have his jacket back, but he shook his head, shutting the passenger door. Then he jogged back to the driver's side, sliding in.

As soon as he started the car, soft orchestral music filled the car. He looked to his right at Sharon, who had pulled his jacket tighter around herself and was curled against the window with her eyes closed. He then glanced to Rusty through the mirror; he seemed content with the music, which made him smile. He supposed months of living with the Captain had rubbed some things off on him.

After about twenty minutes, they pulled into Sharon's condo complex. Rusty got out of the car and grabbed Sharon's purse, rummaging through it for the key card. That's when something fell out. Bending down to pick it up from the pavement, he saw that it was a pocket watch. It was smaller than a regular one, and had a chain attached to it. It opened and shut with a hinge, and by the looks of it, it was probably pretty old. Going against his better judgment, he looked over his shoulder and saw that Sharon was still asleep in the car, and Andy was walking around the car to get her. He slowly opened it and saw that it was just like a regular clock, only with roman numerals. What was on the top inside cover caught his attention.

It was a faded photograph of a man that Rusty guessed to be about thirty five years old. As he studied the picture further, he saw that the man was hugging a little girl who looked about seven. She had wild auburn hair and the man had dark brown hair. Rusty was so focused on the photo that he didn't hear anyone come up behind him. Suddenly a hand was grabbing the pocket watch and closing it with a snap. Another hand was grabbing the purse set on the ground next to him. He whirled around and found himself face to face with one Sharon Raydor. He looked guiltily at her.

"My father." She explained, barely above a whisper. "He died." She didn't explain further.

Rusty looked down at his feet.

"C'mon. Let's go." She turned on her heel and slowly walked inside, her heels still giving a good three inches more than her actual height. Andy followed them, hands in pockets, a little unsure of where he fit in. They rode in silence up the elevator to the correct floor, and then he followed Rusty who had an arm around Sharon. What a wonder, he thought, how far these two have come since the beginning.

He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of someone falling. If the sudden drop of keys and purse were any indication, it was Sharon. He looked up quickly to find Sharon sitting on the ground with Rusty kneeling beside her. They were almost to the doorway, he saw.

"I'm alright, Rusty; Just a little dizzy." He looked down at them, in a slight trance.

"You fainted!" Rusty cried.

Sharon reminded him to keep quiet, as it was late. "I did not faint."

Andy came out of his trance. "Come on, Captain. Let's get you inside."

Sharon gave him a slight glare, but seemed too tired to go off on him. She got back up, brushing herself off and made her way inside. Once everyone was in, she sank back against the doorway and let out a sigh. She then followed the ritual of putting her keys in the glass bowl and putting away the things in her purse before putting that on the table also. Then, following Andy's instructions, she took a cold shower, leaving her hair in damp curls. She then changed into sweatpants and an old NYPD shirt, opting for that over her usual silk nightgown. She had just gotten under the covers when there was a knock at the door. Before she could call come-in, the door opened to reveal Rusty who was carrying a book.

"Hey Sharon." He said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I brought you a book."

He held it up for her inspection. "Dark Day." She read. "I haven't read it in years. I didn't even know I still had this…" She whispered.

Rusty gave her a crooked smile at the look of wonder on her face. The lamp was on by her bedside, so on the way out he shut the main light off. Just as his hand reached the doorknob, he heard his name.

"Rusty?" Came a small voice.

He turned around in the dim room. "Yes?"

"Sorry about the ballet."

He sighed. "It's okay, Sharon."

"No, it's not, and I'll make it up to you." She yawned behind her head.

"Just get some rest, Sharon. We'll talk in the morning." Rusty said, shutting the door behind him.

He walked down the hallway and into the living room where Andy was sitting with a glass of water and something in his hands. Plopping down on the couch next to him, Rusty looked over Andy's arm at what he was looking at. It was a scrapbook. The picture was of a girl; Rusty guessed her to be around fifteen. She was on a stage, and was in the middle of a performance. She was wearing ballerina pointe shoes, and a white glittering tutu. She had long and wavy auburn hair pulled back into a shockingly perfect bun that was tied with white silk ribbons. The picture on the next page was of the same man in the pocket watch photo. This time he was standing behind and to the side of the girl, who Rusty realized was Sharon, and smiling the biggest smile Rusty had ever seen. She had a large silver crown on her head, a large bouquet of red roses in her arms, and a big white and red sash slung across her body.

Suddenly Andy's phone began to ring. When Andy answered it, Rusty realized that Major Crimes had a case. Andy put the book down.

"No, she can't come. Don't call her. She's sick. I'm at her house. Shut up." Andy waited a beat. "Okay, text me the address." Andy proceeded to gather his things, with Rusty watching him from the couch. Andy checked his phone one more time, and then turned to Rusty from the door. "Check up on her every hour if you can. I don't know what we are dealing with. Does she have a thermometer?"

Rusty thought for a moment. "She's never sick, so I don't think she does. She probably just overworked herself again."

Andy nodded then nodded his goodbyes before leaving the apartment. Rusty looked back to the book on the coffee table, he reopened it to the pages Andy was on. Turning the page, he found another photo of Sharon in the ballerina outfit, and a couple smaller photos of Sharon and her dad. Turning the next few pages, there were several photos of Sharon and a woman who he assumed was her mother, then Sharon and her dad. About five pages later, all the pictures stopped. Rusty began flipping through all of the empty sleeves with a confused expression on his face. Finally, with about ten pages to the end, he found a small white envelope. Pulling it out, he found that it was open, so he peered inside. Sitting inside the envelope were three pictures and a clipping from the paper.

The first one was of a clearly recognizable Sharon, sitting with her mother. They were dressed in black, and the oldest woman had a black veil over her face, though it was more like netting. The picture was not taken from close up, he realized. They were not posing; they were faced towards each other on a bench in what looked like a church, their hands together.

The second picture was of Sharon again in the black dress, standing at a pulpit. In the background Rusty could see that it was also in a church, and that there was a casket. However, the picture did not focus on the photo by it, so Rusty didn't know whose funeral it was.

The third was taken from very far away. Rusty held it closer to his face. It seemed to follow the pattern of funeral. It was in a graveyard. There was a big tent, under which about forty people sat in chairs or stood. A casket was being lowered into the ground. Rusty couldn't find Sharon, though he couldn't really make out anyone's face clearly enough to identify them. It was raining the day the pictures were taken, and most of the men were standing at the edge of the tent holding umbrellas.

Rusty then came to the newspaper clipping. Setting down everything else in his hands, he leaned back and read it.

_April 17__th__, 1979  
__**Tragic car crash kills one, injures five.**_

_On the evening of April15th, coincidentally Easter Sunday, a truck ran a red light going southbound on 46__th__ Street in the Ives district. It hit an Oldsmobile Cutlass turning Northbound head on, killing the driver of the car instantly. The truck then veered off to the left striking sides of two other cars before coming to a stop just before the curb of a sidewalk. The passengers of the other cars, including two children, surprisingly sustained only minor injuries._

_The driver of the Cutlass was David Welles, 48. He is the father of the well-known hometown Ballerina, Sharon Welles. He was driving to meet his wife, Karen Welles, at his daughter's national Ballet competition. Sharon Welles proceeded to win top honors and ultimate Grande winner without knowledge of her father's death. She will compete in Tokyo next month at the universal competition following the burial of David Welles. _

_For obituary and information on funeral services, see section B2. _

Rusty started at the sound of a door opening. Quickly putting everything back inside the scrapbook, he stood up from the couch as a much disheveled looking Sharon approached the couch. She sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest, her bare feet on the couch. Rusty raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

"I couldn't sleep." She explained.

Rusty felt her forehead. "That doesn't make sense, seeing as you're still sick."

She moved his hand away. "I feel better. How long has it been?"

"About forty minutes."

"Where's Andy?"

"Got called out on a case. You should go back to sleep."

"Case?"

Rusty shook his head. "No way. You aren't going."

She sighed and arched an eyebrow, mimicking him. "I hate being managed." She looked at the coffee table. Grabbing her glasses from the side table where she had set them, she put them on. "What are you looking at?"

His shoulders sagged. "Um, a scrapbook that Andy had. Sorry."

A dark look passed over her usually bright green eyes. "How much did you see?"

"Some."

"I bet you have a few questions."

"Some." He repeated.

She patted the place next to her. He sat. "Rusty, I know that I said that I would never keep anything from you, but some things of mine have been buried for a long time, and I do not wish to dig them up, so to speak. What you saw in that scrapbook is in the past." She leaned forward and held the book to her chest. "Just know that before you ask." She added quietly.

Rusty thought for a moment. "Did you ever go to Tokyo?"

A ghost of a smile played on her lips. "I did, and I won."

"Why did you still go?"

"I did it for my father."

He seemed satisfied with this. "Do you still dance?"

"I haven't since Tokyo." She said.

"Then why did you become a police officer?"

She set the book down. "The driver of the truck was never charged adequately for what he did. I wanted to be the person who could find the justice that my Mother and I never got."

"And yet you became an FID officer."

She smiled. "I had children."

"Why did you move to LA?"

"My Mother and friends wanted me to have a new life. After my Father's death, and after Tokyo, I almost never left my apartment, and buried myself in my studies. I didn't go out with friends, and before we knew it, it had been seven months and everyone had had enough."

"What were you originally studying?"

"I was at Julliard Dance School."

"Why am I not surprised."

She smiled. "I'm going back to bed. Do you need anything?"

"No, get some rest."

"You too, it's getting really late."

He smiled. "I will."

* * *

She was just turning out the lights when she swore she heard a voice she had not heard in a long time.

"_What do you hear, Sharon?"_

She smiled, shutting her eyes. "Nothing but the rain."

"_Then grab your gun and bring in the cat."_

"See you on the dance floor, Dad." She whispered.

* * *

**Okay! What did you think?**


End file.
